Not So Heartless
by EmbracingYourFreak
Summary: Can Cain's cold demeanor be changed with a dream? CainGlitch
1. It's Alright

**Title:** Not So Heartless

**Author: **enter-witty-comment

**Series:** Tin Man

**Pairing:** Cain/Glitch

**Rating:** T (For now.)

**Warnings:** Torture (Or something close to it…); beginning innuendo toward male/male relations

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Tin Man, nor will I ever. -cries-

**Side Notes:** This is set sometime during the time Cain and Glitch set off to find DG. Just so there's no misunderstanding and such. Also, I plan for this to be a multiple chapter story…if all goes as planned up there.

**Side Side Note:** Dear Lord. Why did no one tell me of the crappiness I left my fic in? So many tense mistakes…it's pathetic. Well, I have fixed them. Or at least enough as a person without a beta can. So hopefully it will be that much better for those of you who like the fic.

**Not So Heartless**

Chapter 1: It's Alright

"Please."

_Who..? _ Groaning slightly, I force my eyes to open, blinking the heavy feeling of weariness from them as I look around at the increasingly unfamiliar surroundings. My eyes are bleary, both exhaustion and an inexplicable pain giving them little use. A trickle of curiosity flows through my mind at the feeling of jagged stones biting harshly into my back as I try to move. Frowning, I try to bring a hand to my face to ease the throbbing ache—_try_ being the keyword. To my dismay, I find my arms chained to the wall by wrist; my feet bound in shackles. My teeth grit as I struggle to swallow the steadily rising dread, my eyes darting to and fro, desperate for explanation. But the room is dimly lit and my vision being weak as it is, I am met with nothing but darkness. With a snort of annoyance, I allow my eyes to flutter shut once more, letting the panic sink as the growing fatigue takes its toll.

"No—please. Please, you don't have to do this."

_Glitch._

My eyes snap open, squinting through the now brightly lit cell in the direction of the hurried voice. A growl makes its way from my throat before I can stop it. Pain sparks across my vision as I struggle to look up, shaking my head in a more unbalanced fashion than I would have preferred. After a few moments of adjustment, I look up, only to be met with a most disturbing sight. I see him; I see Glitch, not but a few feet away, strapped down to a large table. There are several men stooping over him. Two Longcoats, check the restraints for any loose ends and, one that vaguely resembled a doctor looms over, mumbling instructions to them. Moans suddenly turned into frantic pleas as Glitch began to struggle against the restraints, a look of what I can only imagine as pure terror etched onto his face.

"Please—please! I promise, I won't tell anyone! You don't—no—you don't have to do this!"

A metallic glimmer suddenly caught my eye; and suddenly I'm overwhelmed with my own feeling of horror. Hysterical shouts turn to blood curdling screams as the doctor began to cut at his scalp, tearing away the flesh and pinning it down and out of the way. I can feel the bile rising to the back of my throat as I look on and fight desperately to look away, but I find my eyes rooted firmly on Glitch. The pain the headcase is experiencing is almost tangible. I can see the glimmer of tears mingled with sweat that trails down the poor man's cheeks, his eyes wide and unseeing as his body convulses in pain.

As what looked to be a scalpel is placed into the surgical tray, another harsh gleam catches briefly in the light before the doctor goes to work with it, hacking away at the now exposed skull until it gives in and cleaves in two. Thick, crimson liquid pours idly to the floor, splashing onto the doctor's pristine lab coat; dripping from his hands. The Longcoats begin to tilt the table upward with a loud creak of a lever being pulled, giving the doctor a better access and, in effect, all but drowning Glitch in his own blood. The screams turned to helpless gurgling as he desperately sputters and coughs, his body shaking violently from the lack of oxygen and sheer pain.

Suddenly torn away from the gruesome sight, I look down. My chest is hurting. Not a pain like heartburn, but something that seeps down into the very core of my body; down to my very soul. My heart—that useless thing of an organ—is aching. Tears of my own surge to my eyes, threatening to fall from the tips of the lashes as I tried desperately to quiet sensations I don't dare put a finger on. _I can't really be feeling this, can I? I am the Tin Man—forever emotionless and cold to the world…aren't I? _ Despite my best efforts, I can feel the burning sensation trickle throughout my body, causing a startling rage to build. I feel the agonies of the past begin to thaw, melting away bit by bit as I stared unblinkingly at the man on the table.

"Stop it."

The words escape me before I realize it. There is an unfamiliar ring of pleading weaved hastily into them as well as a choked bit of what could almost be seen as a sob. _Is that really my voice? _ I can hardly recognize it through the thickness in my throat. The doctor glances at me, but only for a moment. If anything, the plea amused him—that much was clear. A twisted smile spreads across his face as he replaces the now bloodied instrument, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye before reaching for another. Growling, I distantly feel my arms pull at the restraints, not feeling the pain as metal bites into my flesh. My eyes remain solely on Glitch, spreading through sheer will an offering of comfort. Looking at the matter through logic, I know mere thoughts can do nothing to help, but my heart screams to do something. Suddenly, as though hearing my prayers, there is the slightest of slowing in the spasms that rack his body; his lids slowly loosening their tight hold over his eyes. Of course my mind knows that this should be alarming, but my heart keeps a tight grip to hope.

"Stop it!" I shout as my eyes shift from Glitch to the sharp, hook-like object the doctor now in the doctor's hand. "Leave him alone!"

I cand vaguely hear the laughter from the Longcoats as I continued to struggle, but I can care less. Heaving a heavy breath, I begin to tug at the chains once more with all the momentum I have; pulling with all my might as I twist and jerk forward. I ignore the warm, sticky fluid that trickles from my wrists, gritting my teeth against the worst of the pain. _I have to save him I have to save him. I have to _save _him._ The steady mantra of that thought courses through my brain, not letting anything come between it. I will save him. Or at least die trying. With my eyes settling on Glitch once more, I continue the focus of sending him reassurance, concentrating with what little free thought I have left.

And then comes a sound; a heart-wrenching, stomach-twisting sound that causes me to stop in my efforts. It is the sound of a knife picking at the hem of a piece of clothing; the soft snap of a thread being snapped in half—the thread currently being the nerves of Glitch's brain. My eyes grow wide with terror. My time left to help is short; they were already starting to take the brain apart. Biting back a sob at the helplessness of my situation, I start once again with the struggle against the chains, all the while knowing, deep down, I fight in vain.

"Stop!" I manage to yell amongst my grunts and growls; my eyes dart between Glitch and the doctor. The gurgling had stopped, though it was far from comforting. Instead, sporadic spasms would take that poor headcase over, his body jerking this way and that almost violently as the occasional _snap!_ sounded.

The tears come once more. _Why? Why do I care so much? It's only Glitch, after all._ But even as I thought those words, my heart flares, giving the answer that I feared. Suddenly my thoughts fled to Adora, to my _wife_. A sharp pang stings my chest as the memories flood back to me—her terrified face as she screamed and pleaded with the Longcoats; her sweet, tired smile as she presented our son to me for the first time. And Glitch, with his wide, almost glowing grin of his as he looked back at me in that truck that life-changing day. _Wait—what? _Screwing my eyes shut tight, I barely contain the agonized cry that clawed at my throat as the swarm of memories hit me.

"_Wyatt!"_

"_I may have saved you from hypothermia—"_

"_Look at our beautiful boy."_

"_It'll be alright, Cain."_

"_I love you, Wyatt."_

"_You'll be alright."_

My eyes fly open—_when had they shut?_—and before I realize it, I'm screaming, my arms jerking forward in violent pulls once more. _I can't let them do this. I can't let them do this. I can't let them—_ With one last ragged cry, I feel my arms break free as the chains give way from the wall, my body hurling forward onto the ground. A low growl bubbles up as I quickly pick at the shackles that bind my feet, the harsh metal edges cutting into my fingers. My grip begins to slip and slide over the slick surface, but I finally wrench the restraints apart with a strength I had no idea I possessed.

"Stop it," I breathe, my entire body shaking with adrenaline and fury as I stumble over to the table. The doctor looks at me, his eyes crinkling as that sadistic smirk of his plasters itself onto his face.

"You're too late, Tin Man," he says coolly. As if to answer my shock, his eyes drift from mine down to Glitch's now motionless body.

A gasp hitches in my throat. I reluctantly look down at Glitch as well. His eyes are open, unresponsive and unseeing as blood continued to trickle down into them; the faint, almost undetectable rise and fall of his chest being the only sign of life in him. A barrage of emotion slams into me, the weight of it almost dragging me to the floor. But first and foremost was pure, utter wrath. My eyes dart back up to the doctor's and there was no hesitation—my fist slams into his face. With a grunt of surprise, the man stumbles back, head connecting harshly with the stone wall. But I don't stop there; stepping briskly forward, I catch him by the bloodied coat—_Glitch's _blood—and slam his head onto the stones repeatedly, refusing to stop until I hear the gratifying _crack!_ of his skull shattering against the wall.

I barely feel the sharp tug of the Longcoats pulling me off of the doctor; hardly feel them throwing me up against the opposite wall. _It doesn't matter—I'll kill them all. _ Letting out a crazed cry, I lunge at them both, catching them off guard as I push them back and sending them stumbling over the stilled body of the doctor. Using their surprise, I take the chance to quickly glance around, looking for something—_anything_—to use as a weapon. My eyes then fall on the surgical cart; onto the sharp gleam of the scalpel. Snatching it up, I turn my sights back to the Longcoats, a snarl slowly morphing my face. _They won't get away with this. I won't let them._

Charging them once more, I hear a loud explosion of noise that rattles my entire body, causing my steady steps to stumble. But I don't stop—I dive for the two men with a shout. Fingers shaking around the weapon in anticipation, I snatch up one by the hair, delving scalpel into their throat as I rip it across the flesh with a sharp jerk before allowing them to fall. Which Longcoat it was, I don't know for certain; the only assurance being the heavy thud of a body collapsing to the floor. Another blast of noise suddenly sounds once more, my body all but crumpling to the floor. Grinding my teeth, I turn my sights on the second man, my trembling legs giving one last burst of power as they propelled me forward, permitting me to sink the knife into the traitor's chest. I ripped it out and plunged it back in over and over again, ignoring the sudden bursts of pain in my shoulder and stomach as I continued, carrying on with the carnage until I hear the last breath leave the man beneath me.

After a moment of regaining my breath, I force myself to my feet, my legs screaming in protest from what can only be exhaustion. Slowly, I make my way over to the still figure of Glitch, my feet dragging as my breath began to come out in ragged gasps. _What the..?_ I look down at my shoulder and stomach, feeling a sad smirk come to my lips. _The bastards shot me._ The thought came so nonchalantly; so simply that even I feel it is unnatural. Groaning sharply, the full impact of the wounds hits me in full force as my knees nearly buckling beneath the increasingly heavy weight of my body. But I refused to fall—not yet.

I drag myself closer to the table, leaning heavily against it. He doesn't answer, but I feel as though he acknowledges my presence. I moan softly, both from pain and fatigue, and slowly lower my chest to his chest. The icy cold that clings to the flesh makes me jump, causing my head to jerk up in surprise. I hardly recognize the blood now covering half of my face as I my eyes dart back to his face. It is twisted into a aching contortion of pain and fear, his eyes shut tightly and features strained and tense as he gasps shallowly for air. Moments pass and his fair becomes thicker, his gasps becoming desperate whimpers. _No doubt he thinks those bastards are toying with him_.

Tentatively, my hand comes up, reaching slowly out to rest on his cheek as I gently call his name. Lids shutter open instantly and bloodied brown eyes are stricken with pained clarity, a choked gasp blown from his lips. My heart catches in my throat at the pathetic sound. Gently taking up his trembling hand, I timidly hold it in mine while my thumb works to rub life back to it while I release the numerous leather straps with my other, careful not to jostle him too much as I throw them to the floor with a growl. Looking back to face, I am relieved to see his face has relaxed somewhat. His eyes still hold a piercing pain within them, but there is a relief that wasn't there before. Warmth swells in my chest at the sight.

"Yeah," I whisper, levering his head up with my arm. "It's me."

A hardly recognizable smile creeps onto his face and he lets out a shuddering sigh before falling back into a coughing fit. Before I know it, I'm rocking him, muttering almost inaudibly to my own ears between ragged breaths. My mind begins to drift, wandering once again back to my wife. I can see her smiling warmly at me on the other side of the bloody table, a knowing gleam resting in her eyes. I fumble for words, immediately dropping Glitch's hand, but she motions for me to stay quiet. I can feel the tears spring to my eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time, a few trickling down my cheeks as I stare at her. Her smile never falters; her eyes lock on mine. _They are trying to tell me something._ My mind feigns unawareness, but my heart already knows what they were saying.

"_It's alright."_

Those two simple words release a flurry of emotions, taking all my strength not to sink to my knees. Anger surges through my veins as words of denial work their way up my throat, but all immediately melt at the sound of Glitch's sharp moan. I look down to see his body shaking violently; his head turned away in agony as he falls into a shuddering coughing fit. It takes only a moment to realize that the reason for his outburst is my fault.

"_You dropped his head!"_ a voice screams. "_You dropped his _fucking _head!"_

Without thinking, my fingers ghost through his surprisingly soft locks of hair, shaking words of comfort tumbling from my mouth to help quiet the coughing. A steady stream of berating comments flow through my mind as the coughing slows, continuing until there is nothing other than the sound of Glitches raspy breath. When I am positive he's alright, I lift him gently, making sure his head was cradled securely in my arm before tilting him forward to access the damage. But, before my eyes meet the carnage I stop, settling his head down gently before looking back down at his face.

_What am I doing? I can't do this. I _can't_ do this. _

"_It's alright." _ Her voice plays in my ears once more.

"But it's not," I protest, the words coming out in a slurred mumble as I look wearily to her still present form. "I love _you_."

At that, she slowly shakes her head, her lips faltering. She gestures down to Glitch, her eyes taking up that knowing glint. I can feel my head shaking in response, my brain whirring into a state of denial, leaving my heart to mourn as I begin to step away from the table. Before I know it, though, she is behind me, catching me as I stagger back. Looking down at me with that quiet warmth, she pushes me upright; her hands steadying me as I sway. I try to turn around, but she takes my hand, gently guiding it to hover over Glitch's chest. My eyes slowly slide shut. A haze of weariness and something I can't quite put recognize seizes and my hand closes the distance on instinct and dribbles of cold, sticky fluid meet my hand beneath my fingers; as well as the alarmingly sluggish beat of a heart.

"_It's alright." _

Looking up once more, I glance behind me, seeking out the grays of her eyes. Nothing but the emptiness of the cell meets my eyes. I can feel a small, genuine smile tug at my lips, but let it fade as I look back down at Glitch, my eyes running over his features in concern. The flesh that I wasn't coated red is pale and clammy. Gathering him in my arms, I gently lift him from the table, cringing as I realize just how little effort it takes. _Was he always this…skinny?_ No. Though it was true Glitch had a slight build, it was never _this_ thin. I can feel the ribcage press against my stomach; his cheeks were hallowed and spine protruding from the flesh on his back.

"It's alright," I mumble, the two words taking more effort than I had imagined to speak them.

I stumble backward a bit, the pain in my shoulder flaring with the extra weight of Glitch. Moaning, I barely manage to keep my footing long enough for my back to crash into the closed door, allowing me to slump down into a sitting position with Glitch across my lap. I can feel him convulse from the deep, rattling coughs that shook his body, several globs of clotted blood splashing onto my shirt. Closing my eyes, I draw his body closer, waiting until he was done to rest his head in the crook of my neck as I begin to rock back and forth, not saying a word. I can feel his shaky breath breeze over my ear as he tried to shift in my arms, what I can only guess to be pain eliciting a soft whimper from him.

As I slowly run my fingers through his hair, the tips come upon something rough, metallic and cold. Glitch jumps at the contact, a low hiss escaping him as he tries to throw himself back. _The zipper._ The familiar dull ache of my heart bursts alive, and I find myself whispering something into his ear, pulling him closer as I quickly move my hand away to support the base of his neck. I can feel hot tears and blood mingling, seeping into my shirt as he falls into yet another coughing fit. I can do nothing but listen to him gasp for breath; feel his hands weakly clutching a fistful of my shirt. Gasps slowly fade to violent sobs, racking his body harshly against mine.

I can feel the gunshot wounds slowly take their toll as my vision began to swim in and out of focus. My arms tremble from exhaustion as I try desperately to hold Glitch up, struggling to situate his body in a more comfortable position for him. The pain that had been before dulled by my heart was now agonizing and fresh, zapping all of my strength in a simple effort to stop from crying out. _I can't leave him—not like this. _ Clutching his body against my own, I listen as his coughing began to die down, his body going deathly still. I try to shake him but my body refuses to comply. The tight hold I have on Glitch's body slowly begins to give way.

"Glitch," I breathe, struggling to stay focused as darkness began to dance in and out of my dying vision. He stirs, ever so slightly, and draws a deep, rattling breath.

"Cain."

It was hardly a sound, almost inaudible, but I caught it, clinging to it for dear life. I open my mouth to say something more, but it's my turn to cough, a warm, coppery-tasting fluid spraying and oozing from my mouth. _I have to…have to hold on. I have to save him._ Clutching to those words, I try to hold him closer, if possible, just to feel him; to know that he was still there. Hot tears dribble down my cheeks as I look down at the headcase below, several dripping onto his face. I lean forward, drowsiness gently guiding my body into a droop. I can feel his breath on my face, warm and reassuring as I listened to it. In and out, in and out. I vaguely feel my lips part as I droop downward farther, my eyes slipping closed once more; until we are so close—

"_It's alright."_

"Cain!"

The hoarse whisper causes me to jump, my eyes shooting open and body hurling into a sitting position. _What..?_ I'm no longer in the dank cell; no longer in pain or bearing that overwhelming weariness. Rather, I am in a forest, trees plentiful and thick with a slight chill in the air as the moon shone brilliantly overhead. I look down to find there to be no wounds—only dirt and a few open holes. 

Blinking, I look to my right to see Glitch. He is no longer in pain, covered in blood and dying. He's staring at me with eyes bright with worry as he looked into mine; his head slightly tilted and teeth biting down on his bottom lip.

"You were moaning," he says quickly, either the worry or silence pressing it out of him. "I thought you might have been in pain." His brow furrows. "You're not, are you?"

"No," I snap, tearing my eyes away from his. There seems to be a magnetic pull between them, seeing my eyes slowly begin to turn for his once more. Shaking my head slightly, I face him fully, a familiar scowl on my face. "I'm fine."

"Okay, alright," he quickly mumbles. His eyes slowly were cast skyward, staring at the brilliant crescent moon as he slumped against the tree trunk behind him.

"I was worried."

The tone in those words rips through me like a hot knife, tearing at my insides at the ring of guilt and defeat. I look away, ignoring the lump in my throat as I stare out at the calm forest floor. _I've almost forgotten just how beautiful it is out here. _ A small smile comes to my lips and I all but forget the man beside me as my thoughts drift to the dream I had woken from. _Adora…_ Her beautiful eyes gazing into my own; her warm, comforting smile calming my pain—all bring back the familiar ache deep within my soul.

"_It's alright."_

And there was Glitch. His pale body glowed in the sharp light of the cell, his face and a majority of his torso marred with the harsh contrast of flesh and blood. I can hear him screaming and sobbing as they cut into his flesh; sputtering and gasping for breath as the crimson fluid poured into his lungs. I can see his eyes wide and blinded as his entire body shook and convulsed in the intense pain. I can feel his agony radiate from him in waves that washed over me, dousing me in his terror. He was so helpless, so emptied of mirth and happiness that _was _Glitch. Without it, he looked lost; terrified.

"Just _what_ in all hells are you looking at, headcase?" I growl. I can feel his eyes boring into me, a sickening look of pity in them.

He cringes, looking away once more as he chews on his lip in nervous thoughtfulness. He suddenly looks back at me and, tentatively, brushes a thumb across my cheek. I try to jerk away from his touch, but my heart's screaming keeps me rooted in place. The touch is soft and brief, disappearing just as quickly as it had begun. He holds his hand up in the moonlight, looking down at me with sad eyes. I stare at him for a moment, utterly confused. My eyes slowly leave his and slowly rotate up onto his hand. There was a glint of something; some sort of— _Oh. _I'm crying. After a moment of processing, I begin to feel the warm trickle of tears steadily streaming down my face, plopping down onto the collar of my jacket.

"Cain…"

His voice is soft and strong, almost comforting. He reaches out hesitantly, his hand finding the base of my neck as he gently pulls me forward. My mind jumps into protest, warning me of what path I am taking, but I no longer care. I know, deep down, that I need this, no matter what costs it may bring. My hands come up to clutch at his ragged coat, sobs now causing my body to tremble as he mumbles something in my ear, his hand gliding over the back of my head in soothing strokes. I close my eyes tightly, allowing everything to let go; the years of bottled up emotion pouring out of me like a heavy rain from storm clouds.

"It's alright."


	2. My Irregular Thoughts

**Title:** Not So Heartless

**Author: **enter-witty-comment

**Series:** Tin Man

**Pairing:** Cain/Glitch

**Rating:** T (for now.)

**Warnings:** Beginning innuendo toward male/male relations (if you look closely…).

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Tin Man, nor will I ever. -cries-

**Side Notes:** Alrighty! Onward to the second chapter. I'm _SO_ sorry it took so long to be made. I've had so much going on lately. It's been hell. Anyway, I've finally got this ready for you guys and, again, it's not beta'd, so forgive the mistakes. Also, it's a bit shorter than the last chapter, I know. I'll try to get a longer next chapter. On another note, I apologize for any OOCness or rushing of the plot. I tried my best not to do either.  
Anywho, without further delay—enjoy the story. -waves-

**Not So Heartless**

Chapter 2: My Irregular Thoughts

"_Get Him."_

Jerking slightly in my surprise, my eyes snap open. I look around, not bothering to control my erratic breathing or violent trembling as I assess the surroundings. Flurries of emotion instantly cloud my mind as I realize that I'm not in the dank, rotting pit of a cell but am, in fact, in a lush forest. Relief is the first to make itself known; it washes over me like a warm rain, soaking up thoughts of Longcoats and pain. All too soon, though, the harsh realization of what _must_ be the truth settles in—I am wandering the O.Z., alone once again. I try to stop the tears from coming, but find it's no use as they slip silently down my face, dripping down into the filth of my ratty jacket below. The sudden crackle of a fire rips through my reminiscence and forces me to the present, the silence hardly ever enjoyed rent in two as what's left of my brain whirs into motion.

_When did I learn how to build fires?_ I think, gazing into the dancing flames with mild interest._ It definitely would have come in handy earlier, I'm sure. But if I had known how to all along, why did I choose tonight—or is it today? _I look up at the sky, concentrating on the question at hand. Minutes roll by, but, to my despair, my brain can't tell what looking at the sky will do to solve the problem any more than looking at the ground. The sound of my teeth popping sounds almost painful as I grind my teeth, my fingers picking at a stray hangnail as I try to keep from crying out in frustration. Once positive I wasn't going to shout if I opened my mouth, I let out a soft sigh, leaning back against the tree I had been dozing against before the awakening.

"Stop it."

My breath hitches in my throat as my body instinctively scrambles away from the sound of the growling voice. It sounded suspiciously like—_Oh, gods._ Tears sting at my eyes at the very possibility of meeting _him_ again. Trying desperately to breathe around the hiccups, my fingers dig into the soil beneath them as I struggle to fight off a wave of panic as it attempts to rip from my chest. In a frantic attempt of my rationale to get me to function through my fear, a small voice of my own consciousness whispers gently 

into my ear; urging me to find the source. I'm sure the click of my brain turning back into action was audible as I move shakily to my feet, side stepping slightly so that the firelight could illuminate what lay beyond.

A crumpled figure lay not but five feet from my tree, writhing in what could only be agony as it coughs and groans. My fingers twitch as a sensation of what felt like recognition dawns upon me, but my body is still; unwilling to move into a potential trap. I feel my mind submerging me into a vague outline of a memory filled with distant shouts and white-hot pain; all leading to a faint throb in what I know to be an old scar. Blinking back into the present, I take a hesitant step toward the body to get a better view. It's shaking, back to me as it growls in a vicious yet nonetheless helpless tone. In an overwhelming bout with sympathy and sadness, I venture farther forward, brushing the tips of my fingers over its shoulder.

"Glitch…" the voice rasps.

"Cain." I don't register the name as it falls from my lips; it simply comes. I kneel beside the man, gently turning his body over until I can make out the face. The name is gasped once more at the unsightly grief-contorted features.

"Stop it," he snarls once more as his fingers claw into the ground, his anguish quickly melting into a raw rage. "Stop…"

"Cain." I breathe the name again, slightly shaking him. Then suddenly it hits me. DG's laughter, Raw's voice, Cain's face—_everything_ comes slamming back into me with a force that sends my mind whirling. Though, strangely enough, through my brain's fight to process the onslaught of memories, one stream of thought rose above the rest.

_This is Wyatt Cain_.

"Leave him alone!" The pure emotion within the cry rattles me to the bone, sending me faltering over whatever words were about to come from my mouth. "You'll kill him!"

_He needs my help._

"You're dreaming." A calm washes over me as I rest my hand on his shoulder and, suddenly, everything falls into place. "You're dreaming right now, Cain. It's just a dream."

_I will help him._

Tears slowly trickle out from his cinched-shut eyes at my touch, trailing down the sides of his face and into the short prickles of blonde. My teeth clench at the sight of his chest heaving over a hitched breath—of which sounds dangerously like a sob. I can see the harsh creases in his brow intensify as the taut muscles of his jaw strain, his teeth grinding with a sickly _pop_ as my fingers trace lightly over his arm in an attempt to calm him. He moans as his head jerks back and forth as his entire body contracts with an agonized moan. Parting to emit a final groan, his lips quiver slightly before closing. His body falls slack into the soil beneath him in suit. Though a small part of me is relieved to see the change, the good majority of my senses scream to ready myself.

_And I will because I _want_ to._

A blood curdling scream echoes through the forest as his eyes snap open, wide and unseeing; tears rushing down his face in earnest. He hurls himself upright, his hands reaching desperately out as a wretched sob is wrenched from his throat. I watch in horror and, for the brief second of him throwing himself into motion, my mind reels in a mess of misfired synapses and painful memories until I find myself close to screams and tears as well. _He doesn't know what he's doing. Stop him._ Just as suddenly as they came, they secede, leaving me gripping his shoulders; all trace of the fear and despair that I'm sure dwelled within me—_or did it?_—moments before are gone as I push him back onto the ground in a well-practiced move developed over the last few days.

Blind eyes fix on my presence and I am able to see the swift transition. Pale blue eyes shed the glint of fear, instead shifting into a dark swirl of rage and outright panic. His body tenses in response, falling back onto the animalistic tactics of fight or flight as he fears the worst. Lunging forward, he gives a sharp cry, but his attempt fails once more as I keep the steady pressure on his chest. Limbs begin to flail wildly, his eyes taking on a dangerously chaotic twist of untamed emotion. Tears of pain brim anew as both the pain of the blow to my nose as well as the initial surprise of the attack knocks me briefly off balance. I hiss, instantly righting myself back into position, blinking rapidly in an attempt to keep some clarity.

"Leave him alone!" he pleads, his elbow jabbing abruptly into my stomach.

"You're okay," I wheeze, my eyes closing tightly against the nausea. "You're alright."

"Please—_please_—he'll die…" The strong voice cracks at this, trembling hands taking up a handful of my jacket and clinging to it as he jerks me toward him.

"No one's dying," I manage to murmur, trying to hold my position as the tips of my fingers lightly brush over his cheek. Immediately he is stilled. The cloud is slowly lifted from his eyes, fading as the tears come to a stop. I keep the fingers strolling now along his jaw, waiting for a sign of recognition before giving him a small smile. Eyes widen slightly, mouth opening as if to say something but closing just as quickly. I wait.

"Glitch," he starts, turning his head so his eyes leave mine; choosing to focus on the patch of grass inches from his head instead. "I—"

"It's fine." It comes out easily; something said often these days.

There is a slight pause. "You're bleeding."

"What?" I frown, trying to connect those two together. _Bleeding? Blood? Where? _I turn my attention to the woods around me. _Who—?_ I'm sure Cain could hear the click of my brain piecing the puzzle together as I look down, blinking at the crimson splotches blooming into his white shirt; as I felt the warm trickles dribble down my chin.

"Oh!" I scramble away in dismay. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to drip onto your clothes—I mean, make them dirtier than they already are! That is, not that I think you're dirty, just that your clothes could use a wash. Not that I'm saying you smell bad, if that's what you're thinking—"

I look up and suddenly, while trying to figure out when I had looked away, see white. Everything is blank, like an empty canvas, muffling every sense I have. All too suddenly, though, I'm being swept away; a soft hum of static blows against my ear. Gasping softly, I open my eyes, not realizing I had shut them in the first place. An unnerving feeling in the back of my head whispers that the sensation is not new to me. I open my mouth to say the words that I know are on the tip of my tongue, but instantly lost them as my eyes began to wander across my surroundings. _Where am I?_ My eyes turn to the sudden crack of the fire behind me and I have the uncanny feeling that I've seen this before.

"Glitch."

Brought back from the illusion of my reverie, I start at the voice. Spinning around, my eyes are instantly drawn to the red blotches on the collar of a white shirt. _A Longcoat?_ It takes a moment to let the magnitude of the thought to settle in before I jump back, the bite of tears as they rise to brim against already raw eyes causing my breath to hitch. _It has to be. They've come after me. I don't want to go back. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It—_ Blue eyes bore into mine and I can't look away, the irises forcing a wave of comfort into my convulsing brain; lulling it into a calm sense of clarity.

"Cain." The name comes out cracked and weak, causing me to flinch despite myself. "I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"I know," he says softly.

Reaching into his breast pocket, he pulls out a pale handkerchief, rolling it over in his hands as he stares at it. Finally he looks up at me, a grim look set on his face as he closes the distance between us, stopping in front of me to mop up a stream of crimson liquid from my chin. I blink, almost asking what the liquid was before a sudden recognition of the coppery taste in my mouth dawned on me. I grimace. _Blood_.

"Why am I—"

"An accident." He cuts me off, eyes not meeting mine as they settle on the gentle glide of the soft cloth.

That's all it takes to jumpstart my memory. Cain writhing on the ground; his clouded eyes gazing blindly ahead in helpless dismay—everything is slammed back into place exceptionally hard. _Another dream._ The familiar ache in my chest is back. It is as inexplicable as always but there nonetheless, as if Cain himself is squeezing unrelentingly at my heart. I hardly recognize the pain that strikes as he wipes the cloth along the bridge of my nose. His eyes are cold and listless, a crippling sadness choking the normal fire from them. Before I could open my mouth, the ache in my chest flares, as though warning me that I would say something stupid. I wait until his arm recoils to speak.

"How bad is it?"

He pauses. "Bad enough."

I flinch at the deadened tone, almost wishing for him to scream again; just to hear emotion in his voice once more. I look down and settle my sights on a small stone, no longer able to take those eyes on mine. The stone is silver, ridged slightly in what could be mistaken for engraved symbols. It shines slightly in the early morning sun, the sleek flesh glinting in the light; as if waving me over in excitement. 

The flash dances in and out of my sight, beckoning me to follow it into places unknown. _Perhaps a place that won't hurt. _ The thought drifts by, nuzzling against my ear. _A place that will take care of me._ I follow the glint. _Maybe even—_

"Glitch."

My eyes instantly catch a pair of striking blue and my mind loses any resentment felt at leaving the light. They seem so sad as they stare into mine, searching for an answer that I honestly can't remember the leading question. "Yes?"

"It's not your fault." Where the emotion was once lacking, his voice now makes up for it tenfold. There is a blistering heat in it; one that needs to make itself known.

"Okay," I breathe, almost forgetting how to speak in the midst of such intensity.

He then stares at me—simply looking at me with those ice-blue eyes as he searches once more. Persuaded by the gaze, my eyes do not avert but meet his dead on, struggling to send the comfort they had once received back to its owner. It startles him, his eyes suddenly devoid of the fire, replaced briefly with a shock that is almost painful to witness. He soon regains his composure, though, the flames bursting back to life with renewed vigor and we stand, locked in a gaze that promised something that surely the other couldn't keep, for what seems like hours before his gaze drops. His eyes are slightly wetter than before.

"Let's go," he murmurs, squatting down to retrieve his hat that lay patiently on the patch of grass below. "We've got a while yet."

I blink. _We're going somewhere?_ The thought echoes softly and reverberates through the empty cavern of my skull. It darts this way and that, filling my head with the repeated question with a slowing, dying voice. With one last failing sound, it gently grazes my ear as it squeezes out, flowing listlessly to the ground in a whispery haze. The thought dies soon after, leaving me with nothing to look at but a beautiful silver stone. Its glint captivates me; entrances me with its flickering dance that practically has it _begging_ to be picked up. Instantly I am on my knees, cradling the thin, tiny thing in my hands. _This is it. This is what will save me._

"You okay?" a voice beside me whispers.

I look up and see light blue eyes against my own, searching for something that I couldn't quite trace. _Cain, _says a firm voice in my ear. _Wyatt Cain. _Cold, icy eyes seem to warm at once; if only slightly. His eyes then drop to my hands, widening slightly at what they saw. Calloused fingers graze against my own as they gently remove the stone from my hold. I don't protest, though that ache in my chest began to throb as blue eyes begin to harden once more. They look back to mine, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips as he turned the stone over in his hands.

"My Tin Man badge," he says simply.

"Tin Man?" The term seemed so familiar.

"Yeah." His eyes move down once more to the badge, taking on a faraway look. "I carried this every day in my Tin Man days—even when I was off duty."

"It must be very important to you," I comment, not able to stop a smile.

"I don't know anymore."

I blink. "How could it not be? You took it from that box. Back at your house…I think." I pause for a moment, frowning. "Did you?"

He laughs as he looks at me once more, his dazzling blue eyes turning warmer than I've ever witnessed them while still on mine. "Yeah, I did."

"Then why…" My voice fades as a sudden static buzzes in my ears. I see him, staring at me with a strange expression on his face. Frowning, I try to speak, but nothing comes past my lips but a faint rasp. And then, just as quickly as it had shown up, the static is gone. I open my mouth to finish my sentence that I know I was in the middle of, but a crushing realization hits—I can't remember what the subject of the conversation was. I shrink slightly in embarrassment. "What were we talking about?"

"Forget about it," he says softly, a gentle smile gracing his lips as his hand settles on my shoulder. "Let's go."


End file.
